Response to the Stimulus
by beastfan
Summary: This attempts to present Brennan's POV during the events of Experiment. Both stories take place during "Pain in the Heart".
1. Chapter 1

_**Okay. Here is Brennan's POV during Experiment, the story about what in the world Sweets was thinking in "Hole in the Heart". Unfortunately for me, this story is going to end up much longer than Experiment because it aims to right the wrong done to Booth and Brennan. We'll see if I manage. Iguess if I get ripped too badly I can take it down. :)**_

Response to the Stimulus by Beastfan

Quiet. So quiet! How had she never noticed before? Sure, she could hear traffic on the street below. Occasionally a car would pass with its radio blasting – the vibrations from the sub-woofer making the old windows rattle. Booth really should get his landlord to…

With that thought she started crying. Again. But then, had she ever really stopped? Could one get dehydrated from crying too much? Rationally speaking, no. But she wasn't feeling exactly rational right now. Maybe she would be one for the record books.

The corner of her mouth twisted wryly. She got it! Booth would be so proud of her. Her face crumpled once again and she rolled over to bury her face into his pillow, letting the horror take her down.

When she had left the hospital, no one had seen her slip out. Angela had her face buried in Hodgins' shoulder. Cam's was clutched in her hands as she sat rocking and crying for the loss of her friend of fifteen-plus years. Zack just looked so sad as he stood and stared out the window of the waiting room.

Brennan couldn't stand to sit any longer. The feelings were too strong, too raw. She had to leave before they broke through again. She was trying so hard to keep herself together; one breakdown was enough. She couldn't believe she had let them see her pain. If her time in foster care had taught her anything, it was to "never let them see you cry". Angela was her best friend, but she had Hodgins right now. Booth was the only other… That did it. She headed quickly out of the waiting room and down the hall.

By the time her friends realized she had really left and was not in another part of the hospital, she was well on her way to Booth's apartment. The thought of returning to her own never even entered her mind.

The cab dropped her off in front of the liquor store. She walked around the corner to the entry door for the upstairs apartments. Without a second thought she grabbed up the fake rock "secret key holder" and took Booth's spare key. She never had gotten him to admit the rock was totally unbelievable. She had her own key, of course, but no one was going to just waltz into his apartment if she could help it!

Brennan stepped into his apartment, quietly closed the door behind her, and took a deep breath. Yes, it still smelled like him. She stood still just inside his living room, closed her eyes and let the comforting smells of the apartment wrap around her like a strong pair of arms. Like his had so many times.

She hung her coat on the rack like she had a hundred times before, but it was different this time. His jacket wasn't hanging there as well. She walked on in, running her fingers across the shelf he had constructed in front of his gun safe. He had such a sharp mind and clever hands. From his old cars to working with wood, he would get something in his mind and then do it. She thought of how his broad hand felt in the small of her back, how his fingers wrapped hers when they danced.

She paused a moment to catch her breath before walking deeper into his apartment. She clicked on a lamp, illuminating the living room. Pictured dotted the shelves – pictures of Parker grinning gap-toothed with pride over that first lost tooth, a picture Booth had taken with his phone just a few months ago at Parker's Fall Festival. She and Parker had gotten matching face paint – skeletons, of course. Everywhere she looked - clocks, toys, records - all artifacts of a life lived, of a life ended too soon.

She was truly sobbing now, unable to take a deep breath for the pain. Stumbling to his bedroom, she went first to his dresser, rummaging through until she found what she wanted. The t-shirt was one of his oldest and softest; he often wore it on their morning runs. (She had never told him how much she loved it, and would make up reasons to touch him just to feel his firm muscles under the butter soft cloth.) The sweat pants were going to swallow her, but she didn't care. She remembered...

_It was late one Saturday night. They were just finishing an old John Wayne movie she had found for him when they got the call. They left for the crime scene to evaluate whether her expertise was needed. Booth had what he called her mini-kit in the back of his SUV, so she didn't see any need to stop by the lab first. Bad move. They were at least 100 yards across rough ground from the truck when, as Booth said, the "bottom dropped out". They were both soaked to skin within minutes. While her work jumpsuit was water resistant, her jeans, shirt and hoodie were not. _

_Booth had pulled the pants from his gym bag, insisting she at least change out of her sopping wet jeans. _

Brennan smiled as she remembered how he had quickly assured her he wasn't trying to get _into_ her pants, just get her more comfortable. Then he stammered over that. She had finally grabbed them and told him to turn around, changing under the shelter of the lift gate.

Her smile faultered as she turned toward his bathroom to change. Flipping on the light she walked to stand in front of his sink, reaching up to take off her lightweight jacket and shirt. Suddenly, she froze with her hands on the buttons.

Blood. _His_ blood. Splattered on the front of her shirt, drying on the knees of her pants. The smell suddenly hit her. How had she not noticed before? Her stomach started to roll and the next instant she was on her knees beside the toilet throwing up. After several minutes of heaving she finally sat back against the tub, pushing her hair back from where it was sticking to her face.

_There was a stomach virus going around, but she wasn't worried- she never got sick. She stayed late, as was her habit, ignoring her physical symptoms. Booth walked into her office that night around 10pm with his arms loaded with cartons of Chinese food; he was right in assuming she had eaten practically nothing all day. As soon as the smell hit her nose her stomach started rolling and she almost knocked Booth down as she ran for the restroom._

_Booth was right behind her. As she sat on the floor emptying her stomach of what felt like everything from the past two days, Booth had knelt beside her and held her hair out of the way. With the other hand he rubbed soothing circles on the back. When she was finally finished, he got her wet paper towels to wipe her face. Later, after he drove her home, he stayed with her all night. It had been a long time since she had not been sick alone._

Staggering to her feet, she started jerking and yanking on the shirt sending buttons skittering across the floor. With a growl she stuffed shirt and jacket into the wastebasket beside the sink. Her pants soon followed. Even if the blood had washed out she had NO intentions of ever wearing those clothes again!

Still shaking she turned on the water in the tub as hot as she could stand, and maybe a few degrees more. She had to get clean! Had to get rid of the smell of his blood!

Unfortunately, some of the smells she loved most about him were right here. His shampoo, his soap. She was well and truly gasping now. Could this damn night get any worse?

Clothed in Booth's shirt and sweats, Brennan burrowed under his covers and finally fell into a sleep of total emotional and physical exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah, I know. It's been forever. But, only one review sort of takes the wind out of your sails. I've been writing something for another universe, and felt the need of a break. So, here is chapter 2, still based on "Pain in the Heart". Just trying to fill the chasm left between the two epi's. **

_Response to the Stimulus_ Chapter 2

Brennan dimly heard her phone ringing from the living room, pulling her out of sleep. Honestly, it was too much trouble to get up. If it was important they would leave a message or call back, though what could possibly considered important, she had no idea. After last night she doubted anything would be important again.

The phone rang three more times over the next thirty minutes, but she ignored each, assuming it was going to voicemail. She just snuggled down farther into the bed, using the covers and pillows to block out the sound. Booth's scent on the sheets eased her back to sleep.

Had she been truly awake, she would have heard the knocking on the door forty-five minutes later. When no one answered, there came a metallic scraping and clicking until the door opened slowly to reveal two figures.

"Cool! How did you learn to do that?" Hodgins asked, admiration evident in his voice and expression.

"My dad. Who else?" answered Angela. " The keys to one of the storage buildings were always getting lost - I have no idea how. He got tired of making copies or changing locks so he finally taught me how to pick it. It's come in handy a few times, I can tell you. Locksmiths are expensive!"

The two walked into the quiet apartment, looking around but not seeing Brennan. "You look in the back; I'll just wait here," Jack said, indicating the kitchen table. Angela nodded then spotted something on the counter. It was Booth's "Hide-A-Key" rock. (Honestly? It had turned into an open secret among the friends). So Bren _was_ here.

In the bathroom she noticed Brennan's clothes stuffed into the wastebasket. "Oh, Bren!" she sighed sadly. As much as she was hurting, she knew her friend was feeling infinitely worse.

Angela stopped and stood in the doorway of the bedroom, a lump forming in her throat as she saw the shape in Booth's bed. Brennan looked so _small_ lying there!It was as though Booth's death was sapping her body of substance.

Angela called out softly to Brennan as she sat down beside her on the bed, not wanting to startle her. When Brennan didn't respond, she shook her shoulder gently and called her name again a little louder.

Brennan had felt her sit on the bed, her perfume letting her know who it was before she even spoke; but, she just didn't feel like talking. Didn't have the energy to interact with anyone. She really wanted to lock herself inside a chrysalis until some time far into the future when the pain had lessened…if it ever did.

"Bren, I'm so sorry!" Angela told her softly, gently rubbing her back. No response. "Have you had anything to eat or drink?" Nothing.

Angela was starting to get just a bit concerned. Maybe Brennan just needed a day or so to work things out in her mind…But usually her response was to run, avoiding whatever emotional minefield with which she had been confronted. This shutting down was a completely different response from any Angela had seen from her before.

"Bren, honey, do you think you could eat something?" Angela asked her softly. At least this time she got a response. Brennan (barely) shook her head 'no', feeling as though the lump in her throat was so large nothing would get past it.

"How about something to drink? Some hot tea? Or just a glass of water?" Angela tried again to break her out of the shell in which she had enclosed herself. Again, all Brennan did was give two small shakes of her head.

"Okay," Angela responded. "If you need something, just let me know; I'll be in the living room…" As she started to rise, she heard Brennan whisper, "No."

"No? You don't want me to leave you?" she asked.

"Don't stay," came the reply.

"Don't stay? You want me to leave you here? Alone?" Angela wondered why she was even surprised.

Brennan seemed to have expended all her energy on those three words. She just didn't have the energy to explain how she felt. In fact, she wasn't sure she could verbalize exactly how she felt right now even if she had the energy. Her thoughts, her pain, ere too private, too personal to share. If she was never going to feel his arms around her again, in one of his stupid "guy hugs" (and really - 'guy hugs'? Right!) at least she could wrap herself in his covers, wear his clothes on her body and immerse herself in what she had left of him.

Brennan didn't notice the single tear that slipped out of her eye to roll slowly down the side of her nose, but Angela did. "Oh, Bren," she whispered again, leaning over to give her a squeeze. "I'll put your phone here beside the bed. If you need _anything_ give me a call, alright?"

Brennan did softly nod once, though she couldn't see herself making the call. What she really needed she couldn't have. She didn't even notice when Angela left the room.

Jack looked up from his sprawl on Booth's couch when Angela walked in. "Well?" he asked.

Angela blew a heavy sigh out her lips. "She won't eat or drink. She will hardly talk! All she did was whisper 'no' when I mentioned staying." She picked up Brennan's purse, pulled out her cell phone, and returned to put it beside the bed.

Jack was understandably concerned by Angela's words, but he knew it wasn't time to panic yet. He had gone a couple of days without feed before - granted he had a stomach virus at the time, but still. The water, on the other hand, they would have to monitor to prevent dehydration. If she still wasn't drinking by tomorrow evening, things could get ugly. For them. He didn't relish trying to get a triple black belt to do anything by force!

He stood when Angela came back, but paused when he saw she was carrying clothes rolled up in her hands. "Uh, Ang? What's with the clothes?"

"Brennan's," she told him. "They were in the trash in the bathroom. They've got Booth's blood on them. I don't want her to see them when she gets up," Angela explained.

"Good thinking," he told her with a nod. "We'll come back again later tonight and check on her again. Maybe she'll be more responsive."

"We should probably check on Cam as well. She and Booth have - did - know each other for what, fifteen years or so?" Jack escorted Angela out the door ahead of him, being sure to lock it behind them.


End file.
